Frerard: Surrender the Night
by appleavenger
Summary: Frank remembers everything about Gerard from their long-gone hazy high school days - especially that strange glint in his hazel eyes. Bumping into his chemical-ridden friend at a gig years later, Frank has no idea what he is about to get back into: drink, drugs, or something even more venomous? (The night is a dangerous place) First ever Frerard attempt, I hope it's alright!
1. Chapter 1: Burning

It was finally the night.

The one night I had been anticipating the same way that a child anticipates Christmas morning... only somewhere in my heart, along with infinite excitement, dread was brewing as well.

"Frank!" Sean called. I turned uneasily on my heel, away from the graffiti covered bathroom mirror and to face him. He was approaching me with a dewy can clasped in his left hand, "Here. It'll take the edge off the nerves"  
"Thanks," I replied, taking the can of Stella. It was ice-cold on my sweaty hand as I popped it open and downed a swig. The cold swam down my throat in one stroke - it was brilliantly refreshing.

"We're on in ten," Sean reminded me before leaving. Butterflies fluttered up in my stomach again. I gulped more of the drink to kill them off. I was thankful for the drink - it softened the edge of the nervous kick in my gut that told me not to go out there.

I took big gulps, leaning against the wall unsteadily. I was shaking, my knees going crazy.

"Frank, we're on!"  
Oh shit, I'm not ready...

I just need-

"Frank, come on!" I heard Matt order. I downed the last of the can and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand.

There was no turning back now - I had to get out there and do it.

The cramped venue was filled with hungry strangers, all wanting our music. The stage was creaky but my guitar was a comfortingly smooth feeling in my hands that made me feel a little more at ease.

"Good evening New Jersey," I started to introduced us, clasping the microphone with my other hand on Pansy's neck, "We are Scent of Shadows!"  
The drums started rattling behind me and my hands found the notes and plucked out the sounds from Pansy. I started to get the buzz when the bass thumped beneath my feet and the crowd started to move. I played out the chords to 'Black Widow' until the song was over and I don't remember much of what happened after that. The show was a blur of shouts from strangers and semi-familiar drum beats, then eventually a finale of 'Shouting Kids'.

I jellied my way off of the stage and soon found myself slumped against the wall with another can in my hand.

It had been another good show, but nothing more than that. Not special, not amazing. Just good.

"We're going to Casey's party," Matt slurred, staggering past, "Comin'?"  
"Uh, nah... thanks," I mumbled. I needed some air - my head felt like a shaken up bottle of coca-cola ready to burst.

"See you later then, man!"  
He staggered away, Sean following with his lanky arm around some girl. I downed the last of the can and chucked it, then I decided to go out. I turned and went to the cork-boarded back door, swinging it open and letting the cold air hit me. The gooey mud and brown grass seemed to be home to no one, which to me sounded like a good thing.

I pulled out a cigarette I'd already rolled and clamped the end between my lips, rustling in my back pockets for my lighter.

"Shit," I murmured when I couldn't find it and I put my hands back through my hair with a groan.

"Need a lighter?"  
I jumped to the sudden sound of a voice. A tall man had suddenly appeared in front of me, a smoking roll hanging between his dry lips. Floppy ebony hair, snow-white skin and eyes that said he'd turned to chemicals instead of sleep to keep himself awake.

"Gerard!" I grinned, "Hey, man, it's been forever!"  
He grinned back and we hugged briefly, "Frankie!"

"What're you doing here?"  
Gerard pulled a smug little smile, "I'm here with the band"  
"Aw, sweet!" I smiled, "What're you called?"  
"My Chemical Romance"  
"...shit, that's good"  
He laughed. Probably at my stunned face.  
"Thanks to Mikey," He said. He suddenly plunged his hand into his pocket and produced a battered piece of glossed red paper, "Here"  
It was a flyer for the show they were about to play. Lined with Gerard's artwork... beautiful as it had always been. It was good to see he hadn't changed a bit.  
"Thanks," I replied, tucking it into my back pocket, "So how're the guys?"  
"Great," He smirked, "You should come by after our set, we can hang out"  
"That'd be awesome!" I beamed without really thinking. I realised only after how much I sounded like a fan girl.

He laughed, "I'll have to go. Set's about to start"  
I gave a little nod and he suddenly produced a lighter, leaned in and lit the end of my cigarette. His eyes were more red up close but I suppose it was the flame, "See you later, Frankie"

I opened my mouth to reply, but he was gone before I managed.

And so he left me burning... he really _hadn't_ changed a bit.


	2. Chapter 2: Descent into shadows

I didn't know exactly what to expect from Gerard and My Chemical Romance that night - I mean, I knew that they'd be good but what feel would their music give out onto the crowd of strangers?

But regardless whatever it was that I had really been expecting, I could never have defined exactly what their music was... Some songs were angsty, raging even with Gerard's vocals fierce and burning, whereas others were soft and mellow but with a subtle dark undertone. Needless to say, I was enthralled by everything they played and I knew their music was something different.

The thing that hit me hardest though, was that Gerard's voice had lost that element of innocence that it'd possessed when he was younger. It was as he'd decided that it was finally time to let the demons that had been growing inside of him out to play.

When the last note rang out over the cheering crowd and the set came to a close, they left the crowd, including myself, buzzing. I wondered nervously backstage and as soon as I began towards Gerard, I saw someone I hadn't seen in a very long time.

"Ray!" I couldn't help but to grin.

He mirrored it, "Frank!"

We both sort of laughed and hugged. He must be their guitarist then - they couldn't have picked a better guy for the job. Ray was the best guitarist I knew by far, he was the best in NJ without a doubt.

"What're you doing here?" He asked, picking up a red plastic cup from a side table.

I scuffed my foot on the floor, smiling nervously, "I was here with Pencey Prep"  
"Aw, we missed your set," Ray frowned, "Courtesy of Mikey fucking Way"  
I heard a laugh and saw Mikey, his glasses halfway down his nose, putting his bass guitar against the wall, "Shut up, Toro!"  
Ray laughed and I couldn't help but to grin still. It was just so good to see some old friends, these guys were better to hang around with by far than anyone around me back then.

"Frank?"  
I turned to find him next to me again, his white shirt hanging loosely from his slightly hunched shoulders, and his hands each holding a red cup. He offered one to me and I took it, with a little smile.  
"Thanks, Gee," I managed, taking a swig. He smiled in reply, showing those little white teeth... damn.

_Why do I pay attention to things like this? _

It's normal, he's just your friend, Frank...

_No it's not, it's weird. Gerard'll think-_

"Alright there, Frank?"

I snapped out of my thoughts, looking back up at Gerard. He took a swig from his red cup, then pulled a crooked smile and laughed a little, "You haven't changed, Frankie"  
My stomach tightened and I gripped my cup, causing it to crackle.

I managed a crooked smile and he just laughed again, then downed the rest of his drink.

"Gee, we've gotta go," Mikey called from the other side of the room, "Sorry Frank!"  
My heart sank a little, but I knew that seeing Gerard for longer than a few minutes would be too good of an event to happen to me.

Thinking of getting home, I rustled around in the pockets of my beaten-up jeans for my keys. My fingers searched for the rough metal, but there was only some change and the flyer that Gerard had given me when he'd emerged from the shadows.

"Shit," I mumbled to myself. Idiot, leaving my keys god-knows-where... even better, no one was home for the weekend.

"What's up, Frank?" Gerard asked, looking genuinely concerned. Hm, that made a change from people not giving a shit.

"Oh-I-uh... I don't have my keys,"

He pulled a kind of sympathetic smile, "... you can come crash at mine for the night if you want"  
My heart skipped a beat, "Oh, n-no, I don't wanna be a pain-"

"You're not! Come on, it'll be fun," He smiled and winked.

I melted inside and somehow managed an, "O-okay"

I tailed Gerard to the spray-painted van outside and I got into the back with him. Ray was at the wheel and he just smiled as if I was meant to be there anyways.

My house wasn't far away from Gerard's and I hadn't even realised. We were only a few streets apart. I hadn't seen him in so long that I was kinda under the impression that he'd have moved out by now... but we both still lived at home, still close to each other.

We passed my house first and soon after, Ray dropped us off at Gerard's. We hopped out, saying bye, then Gerard and Mikey went to the front door with me following a little behind.


	3. Chapter 3: Rising from the ashes

(This is from Gerard's point of view)

Waking up in a void, not knowing who you are or exactly where you came from, can be quite a, well, enlightening experience, to tell the truth.

You find yourself, among the muffled buzz of panic gnawing at the back of your mind, with a blank canvas.

Why do people, when given such a rare opportunity, struggle so hard and so for long in a desperate search for who they were and, supposedly, still are? How often in life are you given the opportunity to create without limits, to really conjure something to life from the ideas that grow in the deepest canyons of your imagination? You are faced with the opportunity to become anyone, anything.

All you have to do is reach out into the void and take what you want from it.

But, reaching out into the unpredictable, into the unknown, liberating yourself to become the omnipotent ruler and leader of a land completely new and untouched is what scared me.

To recreate yourself, to rise from the ashes of what you once were, you cannot allow yourself the luxury of guidelines. The handrail to stop you falling from the edge is gone and you have only yourself to hold on to.

But I had to find that out the hard way.

As soon as I finished my first year at the New Jersey Academy of Fine Arts, I began to realise something.

As I wasted away in the darkness of my top-floor bedroom, inking countless leafs of paper and listening to a mash of borrowed tapes, I started to realise that as time went on and as I did what I had always done, my future grew bleaker and bleaker.

At first I called it a phase as anyone would. I did my best to just draw and ignore the dark grey clouds brewing inside of my head.

But, as my drawings got worse, I began to think that something wasn't right.

My head always felt as if I was in another time or dimension, permanently heavy with some kind of jet-lag and the grey clouds only grew thicker.

It went on like that for weeks, maybe even months, I don't really remember.

But I do remember that with every morning that passed, my eyes were a littler harder to open, my mind was a little harder to make sense of and my feet felt a little heavier on the cold, hard concrete of the New Jersey streets.

I saw less of my friends and less of my family, even Mikey.

It only got worse from there: it got to the point where I'd forgotten what it was to be alive, because I was not alive. I was surviving.

Being alive and surviving were two very different things then.

Finally, I was scraping.

I'd hit rock bottom.

I wouldn't answer the phone. I didn't go out.

I'd convinced myself that the cogs of the world would turn just as they had with me in it when I was not there.

And, in many ways, I was right. The world didn't care if I was happy sad, wasting away, dying or decaying.

The world had it's problems and I had mine.

With this in mind, I began my last spiral.

Drugs, alcohol... blood.

One

Two

Three


End file.
